


gods at the beginning of a new dawn

by saernamaz



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, M/M, Oral Sex, also full of symbolism cause im french and thats our mark, and btw sorry if you came for explicit porn, i love claurenz so so much its such a good ship, it just two dudes being gentle and admitting they deserve kindness, it was my bday yesterday so i decided to treat myself <33, uhh i suck at writing p//rn but !!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 18:04:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20697758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saernamaz/pseuds/saernamaz
Summary: “So if I asked you to love me to take all my sorrows away, would you do it without questions?”Ceremonially, Lorenz stood up, like a Madonna in the shallow light of the candle, a halo of light forming around him, deificating him. Worth worshipping. He dropped to his knees next to Claude, taking his hand in his, his soft, warm, long hands, a shelter in the war and a hymn to the believers. His lips descended to meet the Almyrian’s knuckles, gentle and tender, a warm summer breeze in the cold of winter.“Kiss me elsewhere. Anywhere. Everywhere.”





	gods at the beginning of a new dawn

Duke Riegan died painfully in his sleep, tormented by the war at its dukedom’s threshold and the sickness that has been silently weakening him for the past few years. His heir was the only person present in his room to witness his last breath and muffled sobs. The young man watched silently, as, at eighteen, the weight of the world fell on his shoulder and for the first time in his life, he prayed for a miracle.

* * *

Every lords and citizens of the Leicester Alliance made it to the capital of Derdriu this day to watch their beloved leader be taken away, resting gently in a sea of white flowers. The sun was just settling in when the procession began, lead by the young, new leader of the fragile Alliance, carrying a torch to guide his people to easiness, against verdant winds and azure moons, with benevolence and wisdom, against all foes and all fates, to lead them to victory in the war and to lead them to prosperity, for his name to be engraved in history and his figure to be praised in the poets’ song. Empty promises and vows, symbols devoid of any sense. Claude knew it.

* * *

It has been three years. Three years since Garreg Mach fell, three years since their teacher disappeared after joining the Empire, three years since the beginning of the war. But only a day since the Empire announced its wish to conquer the Alliance as well, to unify Fodlan once again. The Alliance was in turmoil ever since, torn between pledging loyalty to the Church or to the Empire. _Never to the Alliance_. Insignificant dukedom destined to fall, to be destroyed and its leader with it.

Despite it all, Claude kept a confidant smile on his face and let his silver tongue draw his path to neutrality, easing the lords and galvanising his people to send them all to death when time comes. For he knew he had to fight, for him and for his people. He could not let the Alliance decline without biting back, he was a warrior and has been raised as such, and he simply hoped that deliverance would come fast, steadily, kindly, and that Edelgard would only attack strategically and not cause a massacre.

* * *

“Claude, you are exhausted. Please rest.”

Lorenz put a cup of tea in front of him, delicate fragrances of mint filling the air. The leader let himself sigh longingly, under a concerned gaze. His hands were trembling, as they came to rest on the porcelain cup. He did not dare to move, finding solace in this moment of repose alone. Lorenz sat in front of him, graceful as ever, nobility incarnate, gentle sophistication in a slim body, curved by the Goddess and worshipped by men – _him_ – in their shuddered breaths and lonely rhapsodies. Lorenz, who despite his jealousy of him never once disrespected him since their school days, who was always there to comfort him, to soothe him to sleep, to advise him. To be a better leader, a better man than he could ever be.

“I cannot sleep.”

Plum hair swaying reprovingly, frown distorting a smooth forehead, delicate lips clicking. Lorenz was always beautiful, even with his face disturbed by malcontentment, even when he had nothing but bitter words for Claude when they were younger. It was always him. Him who could make him feel easy in the threatening Fodlan, him who could make him realize his flaws and progress, him who could make his heart flutter and cheeks burn. Every movement was art, history in motion, love captivating him. If his gods had a face, they would have Lorenz’s, a face worth worshipping and adoring and praising and devoting yourself to.

“Cannot or do not want to? There is a difference.”

How easy Lorenz could read him just watching him, piercing into his soul with a single glance to his pupils, painting him with all his colors. No one knew him like his friend. No one watched him thoroughly enough, but him. He needed to be watched at this point, he needed the burning judgement of Lorenz on him, to feel naked under his eyes, to feel helpless under him.

“Perhaps it is both. Sleep is a hard thing to find lately, don’t you agree?”

Sleep was a beast. Clutching, nipping, chewing, killing him slowly. Sleep was time wasted, sleep was time lost, sleep was time lulled in nightmares. He preferred to spend his night working, writing his way out this hurricane, confessing his every flaw and sin to the gods, praying for release, thinking about hands around him. He took a sip of tea.

“Sleep is still important. You are a Duke now, act as one.”

He was not a Duke, but a mere child, lost and confused, thrown into a war that was not even his, into a life that felt senseless. He felt small. Hopeless. Consumed by a fire he could not extinguish. If being a Duke was feeling like a deer being torn apart by lions and eaten alive by eagles, he would rather eclipse himself from the narrative.

“Ha. _Lorenz, Lorenz, Lorenz_. (Honey on his tongue) My dear Lorenz. Why don’t we trade? You become the Duke, and I simply stay by your side, obedient and loyal.”

“Do not speak of something so serious so casually, Claude. You are the designated leader, may my father like it or not. And there is a reason to it. You are dedicated and bright. You inspire hope in the people, even if you do not have it yourself. I can see you are in pain; I learned the difference between your genuine smiles and your facade. I wish I could ease it away. I am but your humble servant, obedient and loyal, after all.”

“So if I asked you to love me to take all my sorrows away, would you do it without questions?”

Ceremonially, Lorenz stood up, like a Madonna in the shallow light of the candle, a halo of light forming around him, deificating him. Worth worshipping. He dropped to his knees next to Claude, taking his hand in his, his soft, warm, long hands, a shelter in the war and a hymn to the believers. His lips descended to meet the Almyrian’s knuckles, gentle and tender, a warm summer breeze in the cold of winter.

“Kiss me elsewhere. Anywhere. Everywhere.”

* * *

Shaky breaths echoing in the silence, hands roaming naked bodies, souls intertwining. Lorenz kissed his jaw, tracing his features with his tongue, hands touching him all over, feeling him squirm under soft touches. _More, more, more_. _Descend. Bite_. Mark him with a love he could never forget. Claude wandered in his hair, pulling softly at it while whispering his name, praising him again and again and again. He traced his way to his masculinity, feeling his lord vulnerable under him, whimpering and begging, letting the mask drop in the intimacy and nature intoxicate him.

“What do you want Claude?”

“You. I want to feel you everywhere, kissing or scratching, rough or gentle, filling me, praising me. I want you. That’s all I ever wanted. A god to believe in and who could love me.”

And like a saint dedicated to mankind, he bowed and kissed his tip, hands caressing his tights. He let his tongue roam free on his length, drawing soft breaths and muffled rapture. Claude’s hand naturally found its way to one of Lorenz, clutching, desperate. The other man intertwined their fingers, lovingly. Love and dedication were lulling them softly, embracing them and claiming them as their children.

The older boy was bopping up and down the northern stars, tongue waltzing gently. His free hand came to play with his own staff, in rhythm with his kisses. Euphoria felt amazing, coming by waves, sending moans down their throats, vibrating through their bodies in harmony. As if it was their natural order, as if chaos was no more under their touches. _Peace_.

“Take me, Lorenz.”

“Are you sure?”

“I trust you with my own life, and I trust you with that too. I cannot feel hurt in the bliss.”

Lorenz gently raised his legs above his shoulder, taken in the sight of his leader, confidant and luminous, as he was when he was younger, whenever he watched Lorenz. The man dropped a soft kiss on his temple, resting her for an instant, to feel Claude’s breath on his neck, and his hands on his back, massaging his shoulders. If Lorenz was Claude’s delivering god, then Claude was Lorenz’s benevolent angel, made of kind words, soft touches, and no reproach. He lived a life of insecurity and violence at his father’s estate, until Claude shattered the prison he forged himself and let him drown in honey.

“Suck my fingers, Claude.”

The noble executed himself, teasingly licking Lorenz’s long fingers, eyes ajar and cheeks painted crimson. The sight was lustful, fantastic. The Gloucester heir drew a blissful breath, bathing in the feel of Claude on him. He was everywhere, under him, above him, in him and rooted in his mind. Is this what love felt like? This marvellous feeling Lorenz never knew before Garreg Mach, and who was like an epiphany to him now.

When he felt wet enough, Lorenz slightly drew back and positioned his finger on his bare siege. He pressed a chaste peak on his partner’s lips before slowly entering a digit, letting the other adjust to the presence.

“Is it okay?”

“Yes, god, yes. Please, go on. I want all of you in me, now.”

Lorenz traced kisses on his cheekbones as he inserted another finger in, slowly massaging his lover, preparing him for his manhood.

“You’re so good to me Lorenz… I love you. I love you, and your hands, and your kisses, and your soul, and everything you were, are and will be.”

He hid his face in Claude’s shoulder, letting out a happy sob, muffled sounds cut by the wet kisses Claude pressed on his neck and shoulders. He felt the other happily cry too, warm drops blending with his on his cheeks. They stayed immobile like this for a while, embraced, lost in each other’s presence, until Lorenz drew his fingers back, making Claude gasp under him.

“Can I?”

“Yes, my love.”

On his command, Lorenz slowly entered him, once again drowning Claude in soft kisses. He felt him giggle under him and grind gently, urging him to move and to bring them both to solace. They moved slowly, guided by the moonlight and the echo of their heartbeats. It was gentle, a rare thing in these times of war, and something they both forgot. When was the last time someone was gentle to them? Perhaps they discovered this sensation on this fateful night, and that it was why their orgasm felt so deep and godlike. They finally tasted the pleasure of the flesh, while the Goddess revealed what kindness was to them, love and tenderness wed to form their blossoming, young, pure love.

“I love you, Claude.”

“So do I Lorenz. A lifetime would not be enough to explicit my love for you.”

“But this will be enough. Keep your secrets, dear, and only show me the tenderness you bear and confide me in what you want to share. I would never cross your boundaries, you’re safe with me.” 

* * *

And Claude was.


End file.
